Red
by Phantom of Spades
Summary: Red. The color of Zim’s eyes. The color of Dib’s blood. Dark and glistening, yet so painful to look at. [ZADR]


Light, steady breaths.

Dark, heavy breaths.

Whichever it was, he was still breathing. And he didn't like it.

He wanted it to stop.

Yet, somehow… He thought he might explode if it stopped. That his world might just come crashing down around him, dust and decay surrounding all sides. It was a confusing feeling.

_Drip._

_Drip._

That was the only sound that seemed to trumpet in the long, dreary silence. The drip of blood, saliva. Sweat. Tears. The sound was almost unbearable. Yet they stayed silent, listening, despite it. Yet, silence in such a situation cannot last long. It's bound to break, shattering like glass in the warm crimson pool that lies beneath their feet.

"I-Is that all you got, Z-Zim?"

And so the silence breaks, by a very weak, broken voice; yet, it sounds very powerful in such a frozen silence. Zim heard it loud and clear; but he chose to ignore it. He was looking away. But he couldn't look away forever; Dib was right there, right in front of him, plastered against a wall; a single spider leg of Zim's was sticking right through his stomach, like a tack. A deep maroon liquid stained his shirt; no longer blue, like the blue skies he would probably never see again. Just the very thought of it made him release a light sob; he tried not to cry, he did, but it wasn't easy with so much pain. Both mental and psychical pain. Zim stayed silent.

The blink of an eye. A thousand sunsets. Neither one of them knew how long the silence that followed lasted; all they knew was that it was painfully slow. Dib wouldn't stand for it. He wanted to speak. He _needed_ to speak. He was _dying_, for God's sake! It was painful. No matter how much he wanted to protect the earth, he couldn't win this time. It was over. _He couldn't win._

Heavy tears threatened to escape his bloodshot eyes as he shouted with what remaining strength he had left, "WHAT'S WRONG, ZIM? AREN'T YOU GOING TO FINISH ME? YOU HAVE ME RIGHT WHERE YOU WANT ME! GO ON! KILL ME!" At that, he coughed up a decent amount of blood that dripped onto the already damp floor. He groaned uncomfortably as the last of the red liquid dripped from his lips and hit the puddle beneath. There it was again:

_Drip._

_Drip. _

After what seemed like forever, Zim turned his head very slowly toward Dib, making him release a small gasp. A single cerise eyeball opened to look straight into Dib's eyes. Although Dib's eyes were now blurring slightly, he could still see those eyes. Those brilliant, large, glistening eyes that he had seen on so many an occasion; always proud, joyful, maniacal… And every once in a while, you'd see anger, fear. But this – this was different. His eyes looked weary, strained; sorrowful, perhaps. Whatever feeling they had in them, it didn't matter to Dib. It hurt to look at them either way. He turned his head as best he could, trying in vain to look away. But Zim shook his head. He grabbed Dib's face and turned it so he was looking right at it. Dib, grudgingly, looked back into Zim's eyes. He saw his reflection in them; he was dirty, bloody, tired looking. Too tired. It pained him to look. He didn't want to. But he was too afraid to close his eyes; too afraid that if he did, he wouldn't be able to open them again. Zim's lips curved into the weakest smile you would ever see.

"I don't want to kill you."

Dib stared blankly at him. Then he erupted into a fierce rage, "Don't give me that shit! Of course you do! You've _always_ wanted to kill me! My God, you just _stabbed_ me! I'M GOING TO DIE ANY MINUTE NOW, AND IT WILL BE ALL YOUR FA-!" Another dose of blood spattered from his mouth and landed with little '_plops'_ on the floor. Zim lifted Dib's head up again to look at him, and again shook his head. "No," he said, "I never intended to kill you. Not now."

"THEN WHY IN GOD'S NAME WOULD YOU-?"

"It was self defense. I thought you were going to kill me. It was too late before I realized what I was doing."

"… I _was_ going to kill you."

And for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Zim broke out into a malicious smile. "Then I was right to act, I suppose."

"So then it wouldn't hurt to kill me now, would it?" hissed Dib, as if just daring him to end his life at any moment. Zim again shook his head.

"As I said, I never intended to kill you. Injure you, yes, but not kill you."

Dib was utterly bewildered; Zim apparently noticed, for he then explained, "Our game of cat-and-mouse was becoming quite... _Fun_ for a while there, Dib. I was actually quite enjoying myself. We would fight every day, but it was never a fight to the death, right? We were almost like… _Friends_," Dib perked a little at that comment. He had never, not _once_ thought of the two of them as "friends". And hearing that from Zim was just about one of the last things he _ever_ thought he'd hear… How ironic. It looks as thought it _would_ be one of the last things he'd ever hear.

"'_Friends'_ don't hate each other, Zim," Dib hissed quietly, his vision blurring with every passing moment. His eyelids suddenly felt very heavy… Zim's sudden chuckling made him lift them one last time to look at his rival. Zim looked right back at him; his eyes were sad, yet he was grinning widely at Dib. He leaned his face close to Dib's so that their foreheads touched. Dib's breathing slowed. Zim flicked his tongue delicately and whispered, "Who ever said I hated you?"

With that, he lifted the spider leg that was inserted in Dib's stomach and ran it up so that it shred through his chest. More blood poured down like a fountain from his body onto the already red floor. Dib's eyes were no longer droopy, but wide and apparently shocked; yet dead as dust in feeling. With his head facing down, Zim removed the leg from Dib's chest and laid it on the cold, wet ground, so that he was standing fully on his many mechanical legs. Dib slunk from the wall in the crimson puddle beneath him with a splash. Zim put his spider legs away and kneeled down beside Dib. With quivering gloved fingers, he closed Dib eyelids and laid him down in the red pool.

Red. Red like the puddle of blood. Red like the eyes of one who is dying. Red like the heart that palpitates strongly for one you desire, yet halts when a life is over.


End file.
